


Impatient

by Hambone



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Crushes, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mystery, Silly, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is his crush and superior agent taking personal time any of his business? No. Is Bumblebee going to let this stop him? Also no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impatient

**Author's Note:**

> Had a weird craving for this pairing. Enjoy!

It was two clycles after Blurr first reported in as sick that Jazz figured out what was really going on, but he was a sensitive mech who understood about these things and he proceeded to tell no one.

Bumblebee, on the other hand, was not old enough to know much about respect other than how to spell it and he was nosy as all get out. Two solar cycles later and he was going out of his processor.

“I don’t see why you can’t just let him rest it out. You’ll see him around the office in like a week anyhow.”

Throwing his hands up with a cry of frustration, Bumblebee squinted at Bulkhead through the video chat screen.

“Well, yeah, maybe, except that I totally know something else is going on here!”

Sighing, Bulkhead neglected to look up from the circuit board he was tampering with, the sound coming fuzzy and deep through the speakers.

“Look, Bee, I know you have a little crush on him but-”

“Hey!”

Bumblebee waved his hands around frantically, looking over his shoulder into the dark of his apartment. It was a student housing complex with walls as thin as sheet metal and even though he lived alone things were never secure enough to talk about _that_.

“What did I say about that! Don’t even mention it!”

“Why,” Bulkhead grumbled, “there’s no one around.”

“I dunno,” he fretted, masking it with anger, “maybe Prowl is lurking around in the rafters or something!”

“Bumblebee, I don’t think Prowl waits around every time we have a com call just to see if you dish any information about your crushes. And you _do_ have a crush on Blurr, and I know that’s why you’re being so weird about it.”

Suddenly all Bumblebee’s limbs sucked back into his body and he slid down in his seat, pouting as he squeezed himself into the smallest rectangle he could manage. Kicking his wheels against the flooring, he spun back and forth, grumbling a bit.

“I know he’s lying, okay? I saw him at the dispensary the other day and he looked totally fine. Besides, we all get extra coding patches here for all known viruses we have cures for! Something is up.”

“Why don’t you just go see him and ask about it?”

The moment he put it out there Bumblebee recoiled, as if Bulkhead had called him out on something and he was deeply offended by the accusation all at once.

“I can’t do that!”

“Why? You’re his friend right?”

The silence spoke for itself. Finally looking up, Bulkhead dropped his work in his lap with a sigh.

“You still haven’t talked to him, have you?”

“I have!”

Still, he shrunk further into himself. After a moment of stewing, he mumbled, “I asked him about the passcode for the elevator once.”

It was as funny as it was pathetic. Smiling warmly but with a hint of well-meaning pity, Bulkhead shook his helm.

“How do you expect anything to happen if you just pretend to ignore him? You’ve been on that training ship, living in the same building and eating in the same hall, for like a lunar cycle now. I mean, isn’t he like in classes there too and stuff?”

Not expecting an answer, he leaned forward, studying his small friend. Bumblebee was not prone to romantic crushes, but it had happened a couple of times in the past. After the random hookups of early training, however, his experience with relationships was rather limited. Bumblebee was a little young to be playing that kind of game (and a little too young for Blurr, too, Bulkhead thought) but he was clearly wanting and he was Bulkhead’s friend so there was little he could do but try to placate him until something happened to end this or the whole thing blew over as another distraction took roost in his processor.

“Well, there’s not a better way to start a friendship than showing that you care about someone. Just go visit, bring him some food or something, and ask how he’s doing. You don’t have to bare your spark to him. Just be friendly.”

Sagging, Bumblebee nodded slowly. It was not like him to be so overly shy. Stubborn, yes, nervous, of course, but this was probably the first time Bulkhead had ever seen him looking so truly despondent over one of his interests. Even so, Bumblebee seemed to be taking the advice, straightening his back, smile growing as his nodding sped up. A new light sparked in his optics. His smile began to show teeth. Bulkhead realized he had made a terrible mistake.

“Yeah, yeah! Someone should go see what’s wrong, shouldn’t they?”

“ _You!”_ Bulkhead tried to scramble upright, “ _you_ should go see what’s wrong! Like a friend! A normal friend!” but Bumblebee was already bouncing to his feet.

“Thanks buddy!”

The communication screen flickered off, leaving Bulkhead with a feeling of impending embarrassment for his friend. Up in the rafters, Prowl snickered to himself, darting away before anyone could ever guess he had been there.

* * *

 

“…and what do I get out of this again?”

Hot Shot was already a cadet in a real fighting unit under a real Prime, but that didn’t stop his voice from cracking and squeaking embarrassingly as he rubbed the back of his head like an idiot. Bumblebee puffed out his chest, feeling a weird sense of superiority for having such a good grasp on reality compared to this bumpkin.

“You get to see the inside of Blurr’s room, what more do you want?”

“I’m not that desperate,” said Hot Shot, clearly lying as his hands twisted together. Bumblebee cocked his hips, snorting through his vents so a puff of steam swirled about his helm in a way he hoped made him seem mysteriously tough but in reality made him look damp and a little confused. Squinting through the fog, he flashed his optics.

“If you’re that nervous about it, remember that I’ll be on private circuit with you the entire time. You can’t frag up a conversation with me on assist, even if you’ve never spoken to a grade A chassis like that before.”

“I’ve spoken to hotties before!” Hot Shot squawked, ducking down in embarrassment as a passing gaggle of medics looked over curiously.

“Yeah sure you have buddy I don’t care.”

Bumblebee began pushing him down the hall, fiddling with something in his arm.

“Okay so I’ve set up a private frequency, super covered. We’ll be fine.”

“What about the energon?”

“What?”

Bumblebee hadn’t really looked at him until then.

“You said I had to give him energon? To make it look natural?”

“Yeah the kind with additives and stuff. Because he’s ‘sick’. What about it?”

“…where is it?”

Bumblebee stared at Hot Shot a klik.

“Oh, slag, yeah. Uhm. Hold on a sec.”

He scooted down the hall on his heels, wheels screeching a little black trail into the previously pristine floor as he skidded around the corner, leaving Hot Shot to ponder the meaning of the word ‘sec’.

It ended up being significantly more than a sec by anyone’s definition, and when Bumblebee finally came trotting back the cleanup crew had already arrived just in time to glare at him as he left a matching set of scrapes right next to the ones they were currently picking from the tile. Thrusting his arms out, he presented Hot Shot with a light pink cube, packed tightly enough to hardly slosh at the rough treatment. It bubbled lightly, looking for all the word like a candy, and Hot Shot held it up to the light skeptically.

“This is supposed to make him all swoony?”

“Yeah, sure, I mean that isn’t really the point but yeah.”

They turned, synchronized without intending to be, to face the neat line of doors to the temporary agent’s quarters. Something about the simplicity of the silver plating and empty walls gave off an air of rich simplicity, like the new age decorating that was popular in magazines about Tower living that everyone pretended not to read in the waiting rooms at checkup stations. They both baulked, but Bumblebee at least had the gall to cover it.

“Well? Go get him!”

“Get him? I thought I was just talking to him.”

Bumblebee slapped Hot Shot on the back a little too hard to pass off as jovial brotherhood.

“No dumbaft I mean it like, figuratively, just- go give him the energon, okay?”

Hot Shot shifted from foot to foot.

“Wait, what am I supposed to say again?”

“UHG,” said Bumblebee, _“UHG.”_

He pushed a squirming Hot Shot to the door with the number he was eighty percent certain was Blurr’s and rang the bell before any more complaints could be uttered. The sound of it seemed to freeze Hot Shot to the spot and Bee too the opportunity to dash away, throwing out a weak thumbs-up from behind the corner of the hallway when Hot Shot sent him a panicked look. He was just about to try and bolt himself when the silver panel slid away and a very disgruntled looking Blurr rested a slim hip against the doorframe. Hot Shot withered.

“Uhm. Uh.”

“Hello cadet. You’re one of Rodimus’s, aren’t you? I don’t remember your name but I remember seeing you around with him and he may of introduced us once so I’m sorry about that if he did but I’m a little out of it right now I mean that is why I’m out on sick leave but I guess since you’re here someone sent you so clearly you have something to tell me.”

A little jarred, Hot Shot fumbled with the cube, lips flapping uselessly.

“I. uh. We. I mean me, just me. I though you wanted to be sick- I mean, slag, uh, I mean you are sick and you might want, um, something to, uh…”

 _You’re drowning out there!_ Bee hissed through the com, _give him the cube!_

Hot Shot thrust his arms forward so suddenly his gift smacked Blurr right in the chest. The agent stumbled back into his room, systems startled enough to let out a raspy cough, and Hot Shot tripped over himself trying to apologize.

“Oh Primus oh scrap I’m so sorry oh my Primus!”

Blurr turned away a moment, holding an arm out as if expecting another attack and letting out a sort of wheeze.

“It’s okay!” he chirped, despite the fact that he was clearly uncomfortable now, “it’s okay, you just, wow, you have to be more careful with that thing I mean ha ha I’m fine but wow.”

Even though he sounded genuine, Blurr remained doubled over, looking definitely worse for wear. Hot Shot whined a little down their com connection.

_“Help him you idiot!”_

Bumblebee spoke out loud and the cleaners, now scrubbing the fresher set of tracks, glared at him. Hot Shot quivered a moment, then set down the cube by the door and took a nervous step inside, arms tenderly reaching out as if he expected Blurr to slap him.

“Are you-are you alright? I mean, I know you’re sick, I, I’m sorry.”

Blurr looked down at his hands with an odd expression but allowed Hot Shot to tentatively settle one on his shoulder before suddenly standing up and pushing him away.

“I’m fine, really, sorry about that, I mean I am experiencing some coding trouble but it’ll go away in a few solar cycles I hope so it’s no big deal I promise also is that a cube of nutrient blend?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Blurr gave him a pointed look and Bumblebee, who could not see but could still hear, groaned loudly through the line. Hot Shot realized what was happening.

“Oh! Yeah. It’s for you. To make you feel better. I mean, I figured you needed it, since…what exactly is wrong with you? I mean, if you don’t mind my asking…”

Blurr somehow managed to bristle even more. Bumblebee could practically hear it.

“I believe I mentioned a bad patch of code although I suppose I can’t fault you for asking thank you very much for the cube but I’d really like to get some rest now ifyoudon’tmindplease.”

Mirroring Bumblebee’s earlier maneuver he pushed Hot Shot backwards over the doorstep, somehow managing to also fluidly bend over and retrieve the cube and wave prettily before pressing the door hold. Nano-kliks after entering Hot Shot was back in the hall, empty handed and staring blankly at a wobbly reflection of himself.

“Uh. Success?”

He turned to Bumblebee with his own lame thumb in the air, but the bot in question didn’t notice because he was busy slapping himself in the face.

* * *

 

“Uhm, I dunno, it was kinda hard to focus.”

Bumblebee rubbed his temples and took another long drink.

“I could tell. I was watching you flail around like you hadn’t been on like _a million_ covert missions with your _real_ Prime leader while silly little space bridge crewmen like myself were just out doing peasant stuff like taking out the entire upper quadrant of the Decepticon army.”

Hot Shot wrinkled his nasal ridge, frowning.

“Well that’s harsh!”

“Life is harsh.”

Bumblebee took another long sip from his cube, glaring suspiciously out over the crowd of the cafeteria as if other bots were even sitting remotely near them. They weren’t.

“Did you notice anything? Anything at all that could have told you something was or wasn’t wrong with the guy?”

Hot Shot put a finger to his nose, thinking. It was a weird gesture but one Bumblebee had learned not to question. After a few kliks he seemed to perk.

“Well, he was panting a lot.”

“Panting?”

“Yeah, like,” Hot Shot stuck his neck out and made a few throaty _heeh heeh_ sounds.

Bumblebee cocked his helm.

“Before or after you jammed his lunch into his gut?”

“Before,” Hot Shot sniffed defensively, “and there was something else too. He smelled good.”

This time he seemed to regret it immediately after speaking but Bumblebee had clearly heard him.

“He _smelled good.”_

The sarcasm dripped so thickly from his voice Hot Shot could almost taste it in the drink he tried to hide his embarrassment in.

“Yeah. I mean like. Better than normal. Which is not to say I smell him normally but like if I did or had smelled him before this would be way different from that. It was really, really strong. The whole suite smelled like it.”

That was interesting, actually. Bot’s didn’t normally give off many noticeable scents because it was an inefficient way to communicate, but Bumblebee had learned from both Prowl and Sari in different scenarios about the way more primitive species used their noses to pick up on discrepancies and messages from others of their kind or the world around them. They had certainly gotten a lot of data on smells on Earth, although the more memorable ones happened to be bad.

“He was keeping his EM field really tight too, like more than normal. When I touched his arm though it was all…” Hot Shot made a helpless gesture, unable to process the correct words.

“It was like he wanted me to keep touching him? But then he pushed me off so I dunno.”

He took another drink but Bumblebee pushed his away, deep in thought. What kind of illness made a person pant and smell good? That sounded like some sort of made up ailment. Blurr was a spy though, not some half-qualified sitcom actor. It wouldn’t make sense for him to just be faking in such an obvious manner. Which lent credence to the theory that it was real, but if it was…

“We need to find Ratchet.”

“Who’s Ratchet?”

Hot Shot noisily slurped the last of his cube. Oh, right. Him.

“Uh, let me rephrase that: I am going to go find Ratchet. You are going to…have a nice day, I guess.”

“Wait,” Hot Shot stood when Bee did, “wait a klik, I wanna know what happens!”

“Well, I’ll tell you later then.”

“Oh come on!”

Finally putting some of his Elite skills to use, he flipped around in front of Bumblebee before he could make his escape and held his arms out like a stringy cage.

“Let me help! I didn’t go through all that social embarrassment just so you could tell me I sucked and then throw me to the curb!”

His voice cracked again and Bumblebee couldn’t help but feel a spark of pity. Just a spark, though.

“You know what, buddy? You’re right. You should help.”

Seemingly satisfied with a very unsatisfying answer, Hot Shot crossed his arms, stance relaxing a he grinned stupidly.

“What do you want me to do?”

Bumblebee grabbed his shoulders and held him tightly, staring so deep into his optics that Hot Shot felt his very spark was being revealed. His mouth hung open as he drank Bumblebee’s next words.

“I need you to go…to the data bank…and find information on those symptoms. Okay?”

“Okay,” he breathed, swaying a bit when Bumblebee abruptly dropped him and ran out of the room. processor whirling, Hot Shot bounded over his seat to the opposite exit, only pausing in his quest when a disgruntled janitor turned him around so he could properly dispose of their empty cubes. _Then_ he bounded out of the room, spark all aflutter.

* * *

 

“ _Ratchet I need to know what these symptoms mean_ is part of my never-want-to-hear-it-ever vocabulary, or do you not remember?”

“I thought it was _Ratchet what’s this weird discoloration_ that you didn’t want to hear me ask about?”

“It’s all the same thing!”

Ratchet had not wanted to go on the training ship voyage, so he hadn’t. Instead he’d left First Aid with a three by three data screen that had a very private set of coordinates on it for his office that wasn’t supposed to be even looked at, Ratchet’s words, unless it was a dire emergency.

It was apparently not very hard to convince First Aid of a dire emergency.

“No, really!” Bumblebee used his most wheedling tone, which he knew Ratchet hated but also swayed to easily, “I really need to know about this!”

Groaning so loudly it shook the screen on his end, Ratchet covered his face with a single grease stained hand.

“Please tell me the symptoms are at least above the waist.”

“They’re- wait, what? No, not my symptoms!”

Ratchet peeked between his fingers.

“They aren’t? Bumblebee, is this actually serious? Because if it is I should probably be talking to First Aid about this.”

“No, no, it’s not,” Bumblebee waved his hands so quickly the camera lagged, “it’s just, uh…okay so what does it mean if a person is saying they’re sick but they’re probably lying and all they’re doing is panting and smelling good?”

Ratchet’s hand dropped away completely.

“Panting. And smelling good.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Bumblebee shrugged it aside, “like panting like it’s hot out I mean, not like a turbo fox. That’d just be weird.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Ratchet’s mouth set in a thin line.

“Who exactly is having these symptoms, again?”

Bumblebee fluttered his optical shutters.

“Agent to agent confidentiality!”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Are you gonna tell me or what?”

First Aid knocked something over in the other room. Bumblebee was slightly suspicious that he could hear laughter. That guy had way too much time on his hands. Grimacing, Ratchet crossed his arms.

“I don’t know if I _should_ tell you, Bumblebee. Not unless you tell me who this is for.”

Then he leaned in close, as though that made a difference, giving Bumblebee a good once over.

“It’s not you, is it? Because if it is you need to tell me _right now.”_

Something about his tone wiped the smirk of Bee’s face.

“Uh,” he leaned in too now, caught up in the ambiance, “is it that bad?”

“It’s not…bad, exactly, it’s just…something that happens to certain bots when they reach a certain age…” suddenly very uncomfortable, Ratchet twirled his fingers around each other, searching for a sign that he was being played. Bumblebee swallowed thickly.

“Uh…”

“Bumblebee I’ve got it!”

Hot Shot busted through the door as though it weren’t a clearance only medical bay. First Aid was tittering in the main office.

“What? Who’s that?”

Ratchet craned his neck as if he could change the angle of Bumblebee’s screen and see the intruder.

“Uh no one nothing nice talking to ya doc bot BYE!”

Shutting off the screen, Bumblebee shot from his chair, slamming the door shut behind Hot Shot to keep First Aid out, despite his indignant yelp about staff only.

“So,” he whispered, pulling Hot Shot away from the glass, “what?”

“Okay so like I went to the data bank, right? And I was thinking, Blurr isn’t from Cybertron, he was a colony bot from the speed planet, right?”

“Yes, right, right,” Bumblebee nodded, rotating his hand to usher him along.

“So I looked at Velocitronian medical texts, right?”

“Stop saying ‘right’.”

“And I found this thing about old coding that got shut down here but not there, because the colonies needed it and stuff, yeah?”

“Okay that’s actually worse. Go back to saying ‘right’.”

“I totally found something that fit. Like, certain bots have these weird illnesses that take them every few lunar cycles. It didn’t explain what they were, but they were labeled as being troublesome but workable or whatever. Like he’s totally gonna be fine.”

“That’s…good? Why every few lunar cycles? Actually, why in general?”

“I don’t know, there were a lot of words I didn’t recognize and I wasn’t exactly supposed to be at the level clearance it was requesting…”

“So he gets sick every short while?”

Bumblebee stared at the floor for a moment.

“Dude.”

* * *

 

Perhaps there was a question of morals here, and Bumblebee certainly considered it. If Blurr was under the iron grasp of some old world biological terror that made him ill then it was probably not a good idea to keep bothering him like this, but he was, for all his consideration, young and foolish and desperately infatuated and now that Blurr’s condition seemed more pitiful than suspicious he felt guilty. He wasn’t sure why he did; perhaps for being suspicious at all, though even he had to admit it was a thinly veiled cover for his wanting to snoop into Blurr’s business in the first place, but it could also have something to do with not having known. The young always feel like they haven’t suffered enough to be valid around those who have, and it leads to an awkward social grind of the desire to understand pain while simultaneously avoiding it at all costs. Bumblebee was as susceptible to this trip as anybody.

 _Are you there yet?_ Hot Shot whispered into his com, as if he actually needed to be quiet when no one but Bumblebee could possibly hear him.

_Yeah._

Bumblebee stared at Blurr’s door and realized he had no idea what to say. The words had come so easily when he was directing Hot Shot, but the idea of actually giving Blurr his own condolences was weird. Too weird. He hadn’t walked all this way three times today for nothing, however, and with an embarrassingly dry swallow he knocked on the door frame.

This was a stupid thing to do, and he knew he was only knocking instead of ringing because there was a small part of him that didn’t want Blurr to hear so he’d have an excuse to pop off with his tail between him legs, but Blurr neither answered nor remained hidden, because when he knocked the door simply slid open. A glitch, probably. The whole ship was ripe with them, old and rusty and only still in commission because the Council was cheap. Regardless, the door opened, and Bumblebee stared into the darkness of Blurr’s makeshift apartment dumbly, fist still raised almost in mock.

The openness yawned before him. Bumblebee swallowed again and choked on his spit, suddenly too fluid.

“Blurr?”

Nothing happened, but he flinched anyways. Knocking on the door frame again, he puffed breath into the room, noting how cool the inside was compared to the hallway. Taking a small step inside, Bumblebee breathed.

Hot Shot had been right; the air was heavy with fragrance. Shuffling inside, Bee jumped and, stupidly, yelped as the door swung shut. It was dark but not pitch black, and his stunted optics were immediately covered by his receptors, which picked up on movement in one of the side rooms.

 _Is he there? What’s going on?_ Hot Shot hissed, but Bumblebee had no words for him as he followed his senses into the adjacent room. Blurr, lounging on his side on a disheveled berth, looked up at him.

Blurr was one of the rare few in possession of that specific brand of beauty that was as crisp and cleanly cut as carved ice but without the coldness. Every angle and curve to his frame seemed as though it had been arranged perfectly only moments before by some unseen hands, more of a mosaic of metal than plating held together by real wire and servo. His optics were soft as he watched Bumblebee watch him, not looking at all surprised. The faint white pricks of his lenses swirled and focused as he looked Bee over, studying. He rolled onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows.

It was as if the moment didn’t call for words. Bumblebee was a little surprised by this, because so much of his picture of Blurr in his mind was comprised of words and words and words, but the agent just looked at him. At this close he could see the soft trembling of his frame, the way his helm bobbed up and down as his lips parted to pant, just as described. The smell was overpowering at this distance, probably not helped by the closed quarters and the way it clung to the sheets of his berth. Blurr tilted his head back and the exposed swath of neck immediately drew Bumblebee’s gaze. He found himself, somewhat surprisingly, wanting to kiss it.

Then he was closer to it, and he realized he had taken another step, then another, and then his knees met the berth pad and lifted to mount it. All the while Blurr stared, not at all angry, not at all curious, just waiting. Waiting for what, he couldn’t say, but he wanted to find out, and in the next moment he was nearly on top of him as he pulled his entire weight up to crouch in the darkness above Blurr’s gently parted thighs, knocking against his wheels.

“Uhm,” he said, watching Blurr’s lips quiver, “the door was open.”

“I know.”

Bumblebee lunged, missing Blurr’s lips by a mark and sloppily macking on his jaw, making the best of it and moving up to fully connect them as Blurr hissed and shifted into it. Like the desperate cadet with a crush he was Bumblebee groped at Blurr’s shoulders, then chest, realizing he could, that he was being invited to, and Blurr made a soft noise like a chronometer chime and lay back, pulling Bee with him. There was a great stirring inside him, as though he was desperately holding back, and Bumblebee latched onto that feeling and ran with it.

Pale fingers crept down his back and waist, somehow managing to balance their speed and gentle pressure with a perfect knowledge of where to touch and stroke and tickle. Bumblebee hissed as their found a particularly hungry seam above the base of his spinal strut and took hold, sending shocks through his entire system. In retaliation, he bit at Blurr’s neck, that beautiful expanse of soft protoform mesh and wire that had tempted him in the first place. Blurr trilled an excited note that broke off into a gasp when he tightened his hold, squeezing the corners of his breast plate and swirling his thumbs into the glass. Jumping in his hold, Blurr’s hands strayed lower.

“So, uh,” Bumblebee fumbled as Blurr spread his legs wider, encouraging him between them, “I was worried about you.”

Blurr massaged the joints where aft met thigh and Bumblebee was dizzy with pleasure for a moment.

“You were?”

His reply sounded more conversational than anything, but his voice was high and reedy.

“Yeah I mean,” Bee swallowed, “it’s pretty rare for a bot to get bad code so of-often.”

He ran a hand below Blurr’s back to help shifted them closer and Blurr’s helm rolled on his shoulders, a long moan silently leaving his lips. When he responded it was with glazed optics and a distant tone.

“It’s how I’m made.”

“That sucks.”

Blurr looked slightly insulted and Bumblebee backtracked.

“I mean, it sucks that you have to get sick, not that you, you’re suckily made or something, I don’t mean that I mean I think it’s pretty obvious you’re…”

He trailed off, making an hourglass shape with his hands. Blurr smiled dimly.

“That’s very sweet of you if not a little misguided.”

He pulled back, regarding Bee with softer optics than before.

“I’m not sick. It’s an excuse I use to stay indoors when I go into heat. Most bots on Cybertron don’t have those protocols anymore because they were phased out of necessity by the Magnus vorns ago and so I guess a lot of you probably wouldn’t know what that even means or how it is but that’s the facts. I’m in heat.”

He shifted a bit, curling the berth sheet around his fingers. Heat. He knew about that process, although only just. It had seemed archaic and romantic in all the stories about it but now it was just so heavy, a good weight, and he couldn’t think too hard about it. Bumblebee looked down between them to where their pelvic plating was just a foot away from meeting, felt the heat roll off Blurr in waves. He licked his lips.

“S-so should I…?”

Blurr’s smile turned humorous.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to continuing if you aren’t.”

Bumblebee stuttered and fidgeted and fell forward onto Blurr’s chest with mouth and hands roaming. The agent laughed and it wasn’t’ the sound Bumblebee had expected, a hitching, breathy kind of hyperventilation that was inexplicably ugly and wonderful. This time they really rolled together, Bumblebee biting and licking his way down Blurr’s body while Blurr himself wriggled and jolted into his grasp, happily sighing and gasping and moaning as needed and cooking in his plating.

When Bumblebee reached the fork in his thighs, he paused, nervous and excited and a little delirious with the moment. He had been with bots before, interfaced a lot back when everyone was young and a little too new in their plating. This was different though, Blurr was different. He was an older, more experienced bot, an agent of the Elite Guard for stellar cycles before Bumblebee had even shown up to basic training back in the day. He was smooth and effective and beautiful and had clearance to government secrets Bee could only dream about. They hardly knew each other.

“Oh that’s so, so, so good!” cried Blurr and he buried his face between his thighs, licking at the swath of interface cover hot enough to burn the tiny sensors in his tongue. Blurr let him tease a klik, rolling in the sheets, and then retracted everything with a soft hiss. Bumblebee had to pull back, left with little choice other than gaping in awe because he was more than overwhelmed by how easily being an erotic masterpiece came to Blurr. He hadn’t bothered with his spike cover, but his valve was bare and swollen and soaking wet and right there at his disposal. Blurr’s engine revved when he unintentionally exhaled a cool breath over the array.

_“Wow.”_

He pushed back down, licking a straight path up the center before latching on to suck on his nub and Blurr howled with joy. Puffing ventilations that came out as steam in the cold air Bumblebee worked against him, hands holding onto Blurr’s thighs tightly as they squeezed his helm. Thrusting his tongue inside he laved at the nodes inside, drunk of the sticky air around them. Blurr twisted in the sheets until he seemed trapped by them, squealing and surging. Electricity cracked down his thigh and shocked Bee as he overloaded, hips kicking up hard enough to hurt and his valve contracting around a curious tongue. Bumblebee pulled back, watching.

“that, uh-” he wiped his face absently with the back of his hand as Blurr reached down between them to stroke and spread himself, imploring.

“I’ve been needing that,” he hurried, “keep going, please keep going Bumblebee I want you.”

Bumblebee felt like he had tripped and couldn’t stop falling. He retracted his spike cover and Blurr scrambled to meet him, sucking at the head of his cord before it had even fully extended. Leaning back a bit, Bee didn’t know what to do with his hands, finally settling on using one to brace himself against the wall and the other to stroke Blurr’s crest, an action which seemed to please him because he purred around the spike in his mouth and made Bumblebee’s head spin. An extra flush of wet noise filled the room as Blurr snuck a hand between his own legs and began to finger himself.

“Whoa you gotta, you gotta slow down,” but Bumblebee wasn’t sure if he actually wanted that, swaying as his hips jumped when Blurr deep throated him. Blurr made some sort of noise that sounded as though he were agreeing, but his motions never slowed, legs spreading a bit to get better access to himself. It wasn’t until Bumblebee had fully lost all pretense of control that he pulled back, a strand of drool shining on his lips. He smiled, scrabbling back and throwing his legs open as he sucked lubricant from his fingers.

“Are you ready? Are you ready? Please say you’re ready.”

Bumblebee stared dumbly at his glistening cut, spike throbbing.

“Yeah,” his words felt gummy between his teeth, “yeah, oh yeah.”

He crawled up over Blurr, shaking with excitement.

“Yeah.”

When they slid together it was easy, the kind of tight pull between two bodies that felt more than natural. It had been a while for Bee and he had to stop a moment just to catch his processor before it went away completely, Blurr’s tightness and texture and the way he kept _rippling_ like that enough to wipe clean a hard drive. Blurr wrapped his long legs around Bumblebee’s hips and keened.

_“Oh!”_

He struggled against Bumblebee as if trying to merge them together, squeezing and squeezing with every limb and caliper. Bumblebee hiccupped out a moan and thrust hard, velocity drawing him into a rhythm that shook the berth. He dug his knees in and pounded Blurr, and the reaction was worth the effort. Lubricant sloshed out between them like a fountain and he gasped and bit at Blurr’s chest plate. Blurr wrapped an arm around his back and cradled him closer, pushing his hips up into his spike, his breast into Bumblebee’s blunted teeth.

“That feels so good you’re doing so well oh Primus, Primus, don’t stop don’t stop-!”

He couldn’t even if he had wanted to. Something about him, the room, that violent spike in electricity that made his struts vibrate kept him pushing forward until he could feel nothing but the metal between his lips and fingers and the liquid heat contracting around his plug. Then he dug his hand between their trembling stomachs and tugged at Blurr’s external node and the agent came again, back arching perfectly off the berth with a kind of shoddy grace and holding there while he wailed. Bumblebee kept moving but didn’t last much longer himself, optics pixelating into a pale rainbow as the overload pulsed through him and Blurr whined into his receptor.

Pulling out, he collapsed on the berth beside Blurr and they lay in silence for a moment, Blurr twitching every few nano-kliks as if glitching. Bumblebee stared up at the ceiling as his spike collapsed back into its housing and thought _, slag, holy slag that just happened_.

Blurr turned to him, optics fluttering softly. He was smiling. It was an expression Bumblebee realized he had never seen on the agent before. He really, really liked it.

“You wanna go again? Because I can go a lot more, I mean no pressure or anything but I really have a large appetite for interface and that was pretty fun.”

Pretty fun.

“I uh, I know this is kinda weird since we just did than and all, but I really like you.”

Blurr blinked his optical shutters, sighing pleasantly.

“I could have guessed. You’re always scurrying off when I come around, like I wouldn’t notice it, which is a shame because I really enjoyed talking with you back on Earth.”

He turned back to the empty room, absently passing a hand down the glass of his chest.

“That feels like it was a long time ago, doesn’t it?”

Bumblebee inched forward, carefully reaching his arm out to join Blurr’s on top of him.

“Yeah,” he said, “my cool down period is almost over.”

A spike of excitement trembled along his EM field.

“Is it now? Good, good-!”

Their mouths connected again and Bumblebee’s hand found its way to Blurr’s crotch, dipping inside eagerly.

Back in the cafeteria, Hot Shot stared in silent horror at his drink as another round of clanging began to echo across the com line.

 


End file.
